Neither of us spoke as we trudged through sparse coniferous trees toward signs of civilization. My blood still strummed with fury at Niako's brazen words, but I was equally unsettled by my own reaction — by how close I had come to hurting him. I had the suspicion he was wagering his own life as a playing chip in some twisted game, and I feared the game was not yet over.

Kill me, Toom.

I sneaked a glance at the red splotch on the front of his tunic, but when his head turned toward me, I averted my gaze.

Soon, a ten-foot wall of rocks rose before us, pasted together by crusty mud. The wall wove up and down small slopes and around trees, interrupted only by a wooden gate in the middle. On the sides of the gate, two archers perched on the wall, heads propped on their fists and bows dangling from their fingertips.

"Well, this is new," said Niako.

"You've been here before?"

"I told you they want me dead."

"I assumed that was because Rakim killed and Claimed so many of Zarku's people."

"I mean, that too. But I may have also personally offended the tribal chief."

I jogged forward and stepped in front of him, cutting him off. "You offended the chief? And you didn't think this was worth mentioning?"

"I'll tell you if we encounter someone I haven't offended."

Before I had a chance to ask what he had done, a voice called from over my shoulder.

"You there! Name yourselves."

When I turned around, the archers both aimed their bows at me.

Just two days before, Niako's body had shielded mine in front of the archers in Rakim's fighting pit. Now I shifted to block Niako.

"I am Toom of Fooja. We are traveling to the Tribe of Trebalda, but a group of ruffians stole our horses and provisions. I would like to speak to your chief."

The archer on the left lowered her bow and dropped off of the wall, landing in a graceful crouch. She wore a deer hide skirt and vest with a copper three-legged lion broach pinned over her heart. When she straightened, the sun washed out her white-blonde hair and pale face. 

She strode toward us, smiling. "Prince Toom! Welcome to Zarku. My name is Zaria, and the other archer you see is my husband, Zeb." Then she stopped abruptly, smile dropping. Her blue eyes widened, her button nose scrunched, and her fingers gripped the bow. "Who is that behind you? Is that... that can't be...?"

The other archer, Zeb, slid off the wall and tromped over to Zaria's side. Auburn curls spilled over his ears and down his neck like a mane. He stood perhaps three or four inches shorter than Niako and five or six shorter than me, but he towered over Zaria's petite form. Both archers raised their bows slightly as they craned their heads to look behind me.

Niako started to step past me, but I shot out an arm to block him.

"He is who you think he is," I said, "But he's... he's with me now."

Zeb shifted his feet and licked his lips. "Prince Toom, we had heard he Claimed you." His gaze dropped to the gold collar around my neck. "And his family has done monstrous things to the Zarku tribe." He glanced at Zaria.

Zaria's gaze drifted over my shoulder and hung there as though in a trance, body motionless except for the twitch of one eye. I suddenly thought she looked familiar, but I could not think why.

"Anyway," said Zeb, "With how Chief Zork feels about Niako and his family, I imagine he would much rather we mount Niako's head on a stake than give him free entrance."

My mind rejected the image, but not fast enough to stop my stomach from contorting. When I had promised Niako I would not let them hurt him, he had asked, And what makes you think you can stop them? 

I now wondered the same.

I drew my shoulders back, flexed my arms at my sides, and tipped up my chin as I stared the archers down. "If you wish to harm Niako, you'll have to kill me first."

A few seconds passed in silence. Then Zaria lowered her bow and took a step back. 

"That won't be necessary, Prince Toom. If you are vouching for this man, I will speak to Chief Zork on his behalf. I am sure the chief will be willing to let bygones be bygones and help you both on your journey." Zaria nodded at Zeb, who dropped his bow back to his side.

Still, I refused to move. "Thank you, but I need something more. Swear upon Goddess Rashika that Niako will not be harmed in Zarku."

Zaria turned her eyes to me, and her white-blonde eyebrows smoothed as her forehead relaxed. "Ten years have passed since Rakim attacked Zarku. Perhaps it is time we let go. Yes, Your Highness — I personally will see to it that Niako is not harmed in Zarku."

I studied her face for a moment longer before nodding. But as Zeb and Zaria started toward the gate, I turned back toward Niako.

He pulled his eyes from the archers to meet my gaze. "I suppose we should follow," he said, but his eyes told me, I'll wager my life until it's gone.

"Stay close to me," I said, even as I sent a different message with my own eyes.

No one will hurt you again, Niako.

Not even me.

We entered Zarku.

Wood and copper comprised the basis of Fooja's infrastructure. Wood, gold, and marble characterized Rakim. But the independent tribe of Zarku was built entirely from rocks. 

Beyond the walls, stacked rocks formed lopsided huts. Sporadic piles of stones jutted up to encircle wells. Children threw rocks at statues of Fallen Gods, and pebbles crunched beneath our feet as we walked. Ahead, an intimidating stone tower rose from the ground, complete with several turrets. The guard at the front held a spear with a sharpened-rock tip. As he stared us down, even his face appeared carved from stone.

"Who are these foreigners?" he demanded.

Zaria trudged toward the guard, the heaviness in her footsteps belying her petite frame. Though she barely reached the guard's armpits, her arctic blue-eyed gaze was overpowering.

"Prince Toom and his charge are here to see Chief Zork. Please step aside."

"Yes, Zaria," said the guard, and he shuffled to the side and bowed his head.

I expected a servant or perhaps another guard to greet us at the entrance. Instead, a boy of not more than seven or eight with brown hair made up entirely of cowlicks marched our way. After planting his feet, he slipped a stuffed animal from under his arm and shoved it up toward us. The Three-Legged Lion. A little sawdust escaped a hole in the lion's deer hide skin and fluttered to the ground.

"Rawr!" said the boy.

I crouched and brushed my thumb over the lion's nose. "My sister has a similar toy. Did you give yours a name?"

The boy tucked the lion under his armpit and folded his arms across his chest. "Yes. I named it Three-Legged Lion."

"That's... an apt name, I suppose."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "What did your sister name hers?"

"Kitty."

He snorted and rolled his eyes.

Then a man strode forward and laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. He was perhaps five years older than myself, and tufts of brown hair stuck up in all directions much like the boy before him. His eyes fixed on Niako over my left shoulder without even a glance in my direction.

"What is the meaning of this, Zaria?" I had never heard a northern accent as pronounced as his, brittle and choppy like dried twigs snapping underfoot. "Why do you bring this vermin into my sight?" 

Zaria dropped into a shallow bow before me. "Chief Zork, I have sworn to Prince Toom that no harm will come to Niako inside of Zarku."

The boy yanked Zork's hand down to tug on his fingers, but Zork's eyes remained on Zaria. "I can't believe you of all people would accept that arrangement."

"Chief, if I may," I said, "Ruffians have stolen our food and horses. If you ask us to leave, we will go without complaint. But if your tribe has anything to spare, we would much appreciate your assistance."

The man's eyes finally flicked to mine, and his features softened. "Prince Toom, I was so sorry to hear about your father. Zarku should have declared him our king before we lost our chance. Now we all must wait for the Three-Legged Lion to bring our salvation." His gaze dropped to the collar around my neck, and he winced. "Our blacksmith can take off that collar, and we will see to your provisions." Then his eyes returned to Niako. "Meanwhile, I request time with your companion."

"I thank you for your generosity," I said, "And I will gladly see your blacksmith. But Niako stays with me."

The man sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair, causing the tufts to rebel even more wildly. "Zaria, you agreed to this?"

"Yes, Chief."

Chief Zork peered at Zaria for a moment in silence. Meanwhile, the three-legged lion began to munch loudly on his hand. When Zork jerked his hand free, he waved toward the door.

"Then it is settled. Zeb, please take them to the blacksmith."

* * *

We left Zarku three hours later with full bellies, strong horses, and saddlebags filled with provisions. Zeb and Zaria guided the way, exchanging pleasantries and laughter as we rode. The improvement over our situation from just hours prior was remarkable.

Yet something felt wrong.

Perhaps Niako's silence did not sit right with me. In the forge, he had watched the blacksmith work to remove the collar, and I had seen some question in his eyes. But remembering the sting of his recent words about my father, I had refused to meet his gaze.

Now Niako's eyes fastened to the trail ahead of us as though searching for his answer among the rocks.

As the sun set, Zaria and Zeb led us to a wooded area where the pine trees clumped closely enough to provide cover for the night. After sharing a meal together, they bid us good night and plodded off into the woods to set up their own base in a little valley nearby. Then I stretched out on the ground, and Niako lay down near me, crossing one leg over the other at the ankle and folding his hands behind his head.

The cool night breeze, chirping of crickets, and twinkling stars overhead reminded me of a family camping trip in Bund fifteen years past. Lying between my parents beneath the expansive star-strewn sky, I had felt a deep peace.

But now they were both gone, and I instead lay five feet from the man whose family had destroyed mine — who had burned my father alive.

Maybe it needed to happen. 

My lungs struggled to pull in enough air under the weight of the hundred gold bars pressing down my chest. I was as angry with myself as I was with Niako. Letting him live — protecting him, even — felt like a betrayal to my own family. And yet, when he had told me to kill him, my body had reacted viscerally, as though a blade had carved out my own guts and spilled them over the ground in front of me.

As the silence stretched on, I fidgeted, first picking at my nails and then moving a hand up to rub the newly exposed skin on my neck. Finally, Niako broke the silence.

"I shouldn't have said that about your father."

My breath caught in my chest, and I turned my head to study his face. His profile remained impassive, eyes trained on the sky above.

When I found my voice, I said, "Was that an apology?"

"Whatever faults your father had, at least he had a good heart. Everyone in my family is rotten to the core. Except Trebalda, of course, but she wants nothing to do with the rest of us."

I twisted my torso to partially face him and let my eyes skim down the long lean lines of his body. He had been right when he said I didn't need him anymore, yet I could not imagine a world without Niako. He was undeniably attractive, but I was even more drawn to what lay below the surface — that beautiful enigma of conflicting ideas and desires, and the sweet vulnerability I occasionally glimpsed behind his mask of arrogance.

Finally, I said, "Niako... I don't think your heart is all bad, either."

He slid his hands out from behind his head and laid them down at his sides, turning his head toward me to study my eyes. I was used to his penetrating gaze by now, and I returned it without hesitation.

"Thank you," said Niako. "That's nice of you to say. Even if it's not true."

"I wasn't being nice. I mean it."

"I know you mean it. You've never pulled off a lie."

The sight of his twitching lips tugged on my core. I itched to brush my thumb over his mouth and trace that alluring curve.

Instead, I said, "So, how exactly did you offend the tribal chief?"

He turned his face back to the sky. "I came here with my father two years before Rakim and Zarku went to war. The current tribal chief was fifteen or so at the time, and we got along even less well than our fathers. As it turned out, he was not pleased to be knocked down by a skinny twelve-year-old. I'm sure that's part of the reason Zarku later tried to kill my father. Which led to the war, which led to the killing and Claiming. So really, Zarku is right to hate me."

I studied his profile, noting the furrowed brow. "You like to blame yourself for things you can't control."

I saw the whites of his eyes as he side-glanced me. Then his gaze slipped to my naked neck, and the air around us grew heavy.

His focus returned to the sky.

I said, "You also like picking fights with the sons of political leaders."

He breathed a laugh, and the air became a little lighter. "Are you jealous you weren't my first?"

I rolled my eyes, although a part of me wondered if Niako had ever looked at Zork the way he once looked at me — like some intriguing story he could not stop reading.

"Anyway," said Niako, "Zork deserved that punch in the face much more than you did."

"Why is that?"

"He was a pompous asshole. You were... well, you were kind of sweet."

"Ha. How things have changed."

"Not really," said Niako.

My heart skipped a beat, but when I turned my head to look at him, his own gaze was still fixed on the sky. Slowly, I walked my fingers across the ground toward his left hand. He tucked his chin toward his left shoulder to watch as I closed the space between us. When my fingertips brushed the leathery skin of the scar on the back of his hand, I paused, barely touching his skin.

"Is this alright?"

His chest rose and fell once before he spoke. "Yes."

His voice was rough and raw — so different from his usual calculated impassivity. Abruptly, all of my remaining tension channeled into a raging desire to tear off his clothing and explore every inch of his beautiful skin with my hands and mouth. But his eyes still flickered with trepidation like a spooked animal. So instead, I traced a single finger up his smooth, lightly-haired arm, watching goosebumps rise on his flesh.

He lay so still I was sure he had stopped breathing.

I wondered what would happen if I replaced my finger with my lips and trailed kisses up his arm. Would he lean toward me or pull away?

The question popped from my mouth unbidden.

"Why don't you like to kiss?"

The muscles in his forearm and triceps flexed, and I dropped my hand to the ground between us. Niako pressed his palms against the ground and pushed up to sitting, brushing some pine needles from his back.

"For the same reason I don't reciprocate, I guess."

"Which is?"

He rolled up to standing and looked down at me for a moment, his shadowed face impossible to read. Then he said, "Good night, Toom," and he turned his back to me and began to pick his way quietly across the forest floor.

I flipped over onto my back as I listened to the fading crunch of pine needles beneath his feet. Only when I could no longer hear him at all did I whisper, "Good night, Niako."

I drifted to sleep dreaming of dark eyes, goosebumps, and lean muscles.

But when I awoke, my heart was pounding.

I jolted upright and strained to hear a possible cause for my sudden panic. The sun was just beginning to brush the horizon. A breeze rustled the leaves on the trees around me, and the sound of crickets rang through the night like a wooden stick skimming the top of a glass bowl. I laid my head back down with a sigh.

And then I heard the muffled cry.

Niako?

I snatched the sword beside me and shot to my feet so fast that I had to press a palm against a nearby tree for a moment to steady myself. Then I sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Niako was probably having another nightmare. I would not panic — I would just do a quick check to ensure everything was alright.

I started toward the little valley where the two guides from Zarku had set up base. I saw a sack of food strung high in a tree branch. A scattering of drying dishes from last night's meal. Four horses tethered to the trunk of a tree. Two canvas backpacks. Two empty sleeping bags. And no weapons.

I won't let them hurt you, I had promised.

My gut twisted.

This time, I set off at a run. Squinting through the dark, the dark branches of trees appeared only a split second before I reached them. Several smacked my face, but I refused to slow down.

"Niako," I yelled into the darkness. "Niako, where are you?"

I turned left and right as I ran, scanning the space for a dark form — dead or alive.

No. Not dead. He couldn't be dead.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a brief moment, heart hammering against my chest. Please, Goddess Rashika, help me find him.

In answer, I heard the thud of a blade burying itself into a tree.

I redirected my course and increased my speed. When I spotted a figure through the trees, I slowed down. Zeb stood erect, hands clasped behind his back as he stared at something. I crept a few feet closer and saw Zaria, the hilt of a blade balanced in her hand as she lined up a target. Two more steps, and I saw where she aimed.

Niako was tied to a tree twenty feet from them with thick ropes — one at his feet, another pinning his hands at his hips, and a third tucked under his armpits. His head hung heavy, almost obscuring the cloth tied around his mouth.

I don't like ropes.

Fury boiled up inside of me, scalding and dangerous, blotting out any logical thought. I stalked into the small clearing and drew my sword in one smooth movement.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Zeb jumped, and Zaria's hands shot up into the air, dropping the dagger. When Zaria turned to face me, her face had grown pale in the moonlight, and her blue eyes were wide under that mop of bright-blonde hair.

My eyes cut back to Niako. Though the tree was littered with pockmarks, a couple throws had clearly found their mark — Niako's white shirt was stained a vibrant red, and blood gushed from an open wound in his shoulder and another in his gut, running down his trousers to puddle at his feet.

"Prince Toom," said Zaria, "Please understand —"

I cut her off with a growl, fists shaking and breaths rasping. "You promised he would not be harmed."

The hands still raised above her head trembled now, and she swallowed hard before speaking. "I promised he would not be harmed in Zarku, and he was not. But I could not simply let him go peacefully after what his family did to mine. This is only a small fraction of what happened to my sister."

And then I knew why she had looked familiar.

"Your sister was the one Makash called Copper."

She grimaced. "Her name was Zahana, and she was once one of Zarku's bravest fighters before that monster... he did worse than just kill her. He destroyed her soul."

Perhaps I should have felt empathy.

I felt only rage.

"That was Makash. Not Niako. You are torturing an innocent man."

She shook her head and blinked furiously. "Innocent? Makash destroyed my sister, but this man... this man Claimed you."

"That is my concern, not yours." My voice was low and commanding in a way I did not recognize. "You will both leave. Immediately. And if we cross paths again, I will not be so kind."

Zaria's mouth worked for a minute, and she swallowed again. Finally she said, "As you wish, Prince Toom." She took two slow steps backward before turning around and darting off. Zeb glanced once more between me and Niako before following Zaria back through the trees.

As soon as they were both out of sight, I closed the distance between me and Niako and brushed a finger over his downturned cheek. My voice went from commanding and enraged to choked and fearful.

"Niako?"

He lifted his head slightly and peeled his eyes halfway open. "Rrg," he said around the gag. Then his eyes fell shut again.

With shaking fingers, I jerked free the knot at the back of the gag. Then I carefully sliced through the three ropes holding him to the tree from bottom to top. 

He staggered forward a step, blinking at me as though he was having trouble focusing.

"Niako, are you alright?" I said, reaching out a hand to steady him.

It was a stupid question. An alarming quantity of blood still streamed from the two open wounds.

"Oh yes, totally fine," said Niako. "Just feeling a bit..."

And then he collapsed into my arms.

* * *

"Niako?"

His eyes remained closed. One arm draped over his chest, hand resting on his heart. With his black curls mussed and his jaw slack, he appeared strangely childlike and innocent.

I laid my hand on top of his. He was so cold — as cold as death. I laced my fingers through his, as though the warmth of my hand alone could keep him alive.

Fear as cold as his skin writhed in my stomach and twisted around my lungs.

"Niako, can you hear me?"

Slowly, his eyelids peeled open, and then unfocused dark eyes stared up at me. He blinked a few times, and his gaze sharpened on my face. Then his eyes dropped to our hands on his chest.

In a surprisingly clear voice, he said, "Toom... are you holding my hand?"

I slid my hand off of his, fighting a flush. But his words were warm, not derisive, and the small smile flitting across his lips was impossibly sweet and guileless — impossibly unlike Niako.

I swallowed. "Listen, Zaria and Zeb left the horses. I am going to ride for Trebalda's tribe."

His smile faded. "I know. But could you just... stay a few minutes first? With me?"

With a quick exhale, I grabbed his hand again and squeezed his fingers. "Don't act like I'm leaving you. I'm coming back, Niako."

"Don't bother. I'll be dead."

He released the words easily — almost a sigh.

My heart clenched.

"No, you're not dying. I already wrapped the wounds. You're still losing blood, but a physician can save you. I just need to get a physician here fast."

"Find Finny. That is what is important."

I shook my head. "I'm coming back for you first, Niako. I won't let you die."

As his eyes slid closed again, he murmured, "We'll see."